Chapter 2 - The Locked Box
I stared quietly at the printed name on the contract while my heart hammered violently against my ribs.
I carefully placed the silver pen back onto the heavy oak desk and pushed the folder away.
I faked a sudden, terrible migraine and rubbed my temples with trembling fingers.
I told Ryan I absolutely could not focus on dense legal documents while my head was throbbing this badly.
Irritation flashed dangerously in his dark eyes for a fraction of a second.
He quickly masked his anger with a fake, exaggerated expression of deep husbandly concern.
He kissed my forehead and told me to go rest upstairs while he finished responding to some late emails.
I walked up the carpeted stairs and locked myself safely inside our master bedroom.
I waited in the dark for three agonizing hours until I heard him finally go to sleep in the guest room.
I crept silently back downstairs to his office holding a small battery-powered flashlight.
I systematically searched every drawer, file cabinet, and bookshelf in the dark room.
Behind a row of heavy leather-bound encyclopedias, I found a small wooden lockbox hidden in the shadows.
I used a metal paperclip to pick the simple brass lock after a few frustrating attempts.
Inside the felt-lined box was a cheap, prepaid burner phone with a cracked screen.
I powered the device on and waited nervously for the bright screen to load.
There was only one anonymous contact saved in the entire address book.
I quickly opened the text message history to read the conversation.
The last message received was sent exactly twenty minutes ago.
It read, "Did the stupid wife sign the real estate transfer yet?"
I felt a sickening knot twist deep in my stomach as I stared at the screen.
May you like
I recognized the phone number instantly because it had been saved in my own phone for ten long years.
It was the personal cell phone number of my best friend Maya.
